After our two children were born, my husband stopped being the same person. Until one day he said something that completely changed my life.

After giving birth, my body changed. I put aside nice clothes, stopped taking care of myself — I didn’t have the strength or time anymore.

I thought I could count on his support. But one day I heard:

— I’m ashamed to introduce you to my colleagues. Their wives look like models… and me? I look like I came with my aunt.

Later, I accidentally found out that he was cheating on me with a coworker. That was the final straw. And that’s when I decided to take action.

From the beginning of our marriage, he clearly established the division of roles: he works, I take care of the house. He wanted me to be the “keeper of the home.”

He would talk about his ideal day: he would come home to a warm dinner, his apartment would be sparkling, his children would be smiling. He said it with such certainty that I started to believe it.

After the wedding, I devoted myself entirely to my family. I cooked exquisite dishes, cleaned to perfection, ironed his shirts with the utmost care. He praised me and presented me as an exemplary wife.

But everything changed when our son was born. The days turned into a marathon of feedings, laundry and sleepless nights. Whatever I did, he became more and more dissatisfied.

He didn’t say it directly, but his gaze gave it all away. I tried even harder—I slept for hours to make everything look “perfect.”

He wanted a second child. I hesitated—I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to handle it—but he insisted: “A real family has at least two children.” I gave in.

Our daughter was born weak and very demanding. I couldn’t remember the last time I slept through the night. There was no time for make-up, hair, or me.

One evening at dinner he said coldly:

— I’m ashamed to introduce you to my friends. Their wives are beautiful… and I’m sitting with my aunt.

I froze. Everything I had sacrificed for my family—this was what I was going to get in return?

That night I couldn’t sleep for a long time. For years I lived according to his expectations, forgetting about myself.

But then I realized one thing: my children deserve a strong, happy mother who knows her worth.

I began to change. Slowly, step by step, I returned to myself: I learned to smile again, to sleep peacefully, to look in the mirror with kindness despite being tired. And you know what? I stopped being afraid.

I wasn’t just leaving my husband. I was rejecting the toxic model of the “perfect family” that was destroying me.

My story doesn’t end. It’s just beginning. And this time I’m not asking, “What would you do in my shoes?”

I say one thing:

Don’t let anyone else decide your worth. Love yourself. Dare to start over. And never regret choosing yourself.